All's Fair in Love and Modern Warfare
by FullMetalVixen
Summary: It's the release of the new Call of Duty video game, and once again Castiel finds himself being brushed aside by husband Dean in favour of hours sat in front of the television screen. Beginning to feel like a stranger in his own home, Castiel decides to take matters into his own hands, and turns to his older brothers for guidance. Slash, cross-dressing. Destiel, Sabriel, Balcifer.
1. Gentlemen start your engines

**Disclaimer:** I _could_ say that own all of these awesome characters. I _could_ say that I am the genius mind behind nine totally amazing seasons. I _could_ say that I know Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki and Misha Collins.

But then I'd be a dirty, no-good, rotten liar... Still, it's always fun to pretend!

**Warnings:** This story will contain heavy slash (male on male sexual relations), swearing, and bedroom!kinks including cross-dressing. All the good stuff, really.

**Pairings:** Destiel, Sabriel, Balcifer, Michael/Adam (Madam?)

Enjoy, bitches!

* * *

_**.:All's Fair in Love and Modern Warfare:.**_

_'Gentlemen; start your engines...'_

Being in love was such a funny thing. Knowing one single person in such intimate detail; feeling connected body, heart and soul. It was not only profoundly beautiful, but also something of a marvel.

Or, at least, that's how Castiel Novak viewed it.

The twenty-nine year old interior designer was so hopelessly in love he would often swear that he could feel it on a spiritual level, that he was so attuned to his partner's very being that he could feel the man's every emotion like a phantom tug on his own heart.

"Yo, Cas! I'm home!"

Ah, speak of the devil…

Smiling softly, Castiel went to greet his childhood sweetheart and husband of three years by the door. The dirty-blonde was toeing off heavy work boots caked in mud, his lightly freckled cheeks smudged with grease and protective coveralls positively filthy – and yet Castiel couldn't find a single fault with the man as dazzling jade eyes, radiating such affection and warmth, glanced up from beneath thick black lashes to capture and ensnare his own fond gaze.

Castiel first met Dean Winchester when he and his three elder brothers first moved to Lawrence, Kansas, when the youngest Novak sibling was just thirteen years old. Having lost their mother, the gentle and loving Anna, mere hours after Castiel's birth, the Novak men thought that they had survived the worst of Fate's cruel temper, only for tragedy to strike once again when Novak senior perished in a freak road accident some twelve years later.

Freshly orphaned, Michael, the eldest brother and considered a legal adult at the age of twenty-one, took on the leading role of provider and parental substitute for his lost and distraught younger brothers. He moved them away from the cold and painful memories of their childhood home in sunny California, and into an affordable little neighbourhood in Lawrence.

The move was long and emotionally exhausting, but Michael deemed it best for his family.

Lucifer, the next in line at age twenty, didn't take to his brother's rule all too well, and the two eldest were constantly at each others throats. Their fighting was destructive, and put an awful strain on a family already teetering at the end of their tether. At the tender age of just sixteen, the second youngest sibling, Gabriel, had had enough and abandoned them all. It was a hard blow to all of the Novaks, especially young Castiel who had come to rely on his big brother when Lucifer and Michael were being particularly overbearing.

Retreating far into the lonely recesses of his own psyche, Castiel became something of a recluse, burying himself in his studies and barricading himself from the outstretched hands of friendship offered to him by his peers.

And then Dean Winchester came along and changed _everything_. Fourteen year old Dean who lived down the street, who didn't understand (or care) for the word 'no', who tore down Castiel's every defence and barrier without concern, who dragged Castiel kicking and screaming from the tangled web of self-loathing and into the light, who barged his way unheeded into Castiel's life and, gradually, his heart.

Their friendship had been slow and tenuous, and their budding attraction even more so. Their first kiss had been awkward and uncoordinated; a drunken fumble at Meg Master's graduation party where Castiel had taken his first shots of hard liquor and Dean had been better versed in full, painted lips and hourglass figures.

It had been the spark that ignited a deep and passionate wildfire, one that would knock them off their feet and consume every notion that they had ever thought possible of themselves.

Castiel, the shy and socially inept introvert, suddenly found himself reaching out to others and surrounding himself with the kind of warmth and kinship awarded with such close companionship. And Dean, self-proclaimed 'ladies man' and commitment-phobe, found himself falling quite spectacularly head over heels for male best friend and blossoming socialite, Castiel.

Castiel went on to study Design Management at KU, whereas Dean, who at the age of nineteen was thoroughly done with further education, decided to follow in his father's footsteps and take on the family business; Winchester and Singer Junkyard, an auto repair shop in the heart of Kansas.

When Castiel graduated university, the happy couple started thinking about their own lives and careers, and soon moved out to Manhattan, where Castiel got a very reputable job as an interior designer and Dean opened up his own Junior Winchester Mechanics and Classic Restoration yard.

At twenty-five, Dean proposed to an ecstatic Castiel, and, two years later, they both stood up in front of friends and family alike, promising to cherish and love one another for the rest of their lives – an easy vow for ones so maddeningly in love it made others sick with envy. Then, after the long, gruelling months of planning, of dealing with crazy groomsmen (the Novak siblings), gushing parents (Mary Winchester), overbearing in-laws (Ellen Singer) and cantankerous _out_laws (Bobby Singer), the newlyweds jetted off to Nueva Vallarta, Mexico, where Mr. and Mr. Winchester spent three glorious weeks walking the sandy beaches and visiting archaeological sites by day, and hitting the bars and nightclubs by night.

Dean was insatiable, and Castiel a sexed-up nymphomaniac, and when the two lovers weren't busy losing themselves in the natural beauty of the awe-inspiring landscapes all around them, they were busy losing themselves in each others bodies. Had Castiel been of the female persuasion, he would have been knocked-up several times over due to Dean's impromptu and frankly savage lovemaking sessions.

When they returned, they fell into a loving routine of work, rest and play, Castiel waking every morning hardly able to believe his divine luck that, after such a devastating start to life with a mother he never knew and a father that was never around, he found someone as utterly amazing as Dean to share his home and heart with.

For all of his misfortune, Castiel couldn't possibly be any happier with the way in which his life had turned out.

Smiling fondly, he approached his work-weary husband and wrapped his arms around Dean's broad shoulders. "Hello, Dean. Welcome home."

Dean grinned, pulling Castiel flush against his body by the hips. "Hey, gorgeous. Miss me?"

"Like a hole in the head," Castiel jibbed with a cheeky smirk, his enchanting blue eyes glittering with mischief.

"Wow, harsh babe!" Dean mocked, feigning hurt even as his quirky little smile belied the words. Clucking his tongue, he took a step back. "Guess you won't be needing your regular greeting kiss then, huh?"

Dean could only laugh when Castiel practically pounced, sending him sprawling back against the door with an armful of disgruntled husband. Pressing his lips firmly against the elder's, Castiel sighed when Dean cupped the back of his head and drew him in close, sliding that criminal tongue into his mouth and making his bones melt with the kind of practised ease begot from years upon years of experience.

Pulling back with a dreamy expression, Castiel hummed contentedly against Dean's mouth. "You're later than usual," he noted out loud, a thought that had occurred to him earlier that evening. "Busy day?"

"Mm, you could say that," Dean confirmed, gifting Castiel with another doting kiss before shucking his heavy leather jacket. "I'm still working on that '69 Shelby Mustang – god, Cas, you should see her. Gonna be a real beauty when I'm through with her." Not for the first time, Castiel had to remind himself that it was impossible to have a love affair with a car. "Anyway, I guess I got a little carried away and didn't realise the time. Oh, and then I swung by the mall on the way home."

"The mall?" Castiel parroted, arching an inquisitive eyebrow. "Did I forget to pick something up in yesterday's grocery shopping?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Dean assured him with a dismissive wave, though the excited curve to his lips as he reached into the back pocket of his overalls made Castiel somewhat nervous. He procured a small bag with a familiar logo on the front, brandishing it in front of a now frowning brunette. "Sam's been braggin' like a colossal _douche_ for days about his 'badass skills' – but all of that is about to change. It's time for some _major_ pwnage."

As Dean hurried past him and disappeared into the sitting room, as eager as a small child on Christmas morning to install the latest _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3_ videogame on their Playstation console, Castiel could only roll his eyes and groan, resigning himself to weeks upon weeks of reams of crass language, random outburst of game-induced violence, and, of course, total ignorance.

It was _Modern Warfare 2_ all over again…

* * *

_**Some weeks later… **_

"In the last week alone he has put well over _sixty hours_ into that infernal game! He calls in sick to work, barely eats, doesn't get nearly enough sleep… It's ridiculous!"

Castiel knew he was ranting, and that such negativity wasn't exactly good social etiquette, but for what other purpose was a bi-annual family reunion if not to bitch and moan about ones love life? Or lack thereof, as the case might be.

The four brothers, plus guest, were seated around a large table in a quaint little bistro just outside of Lawrence. Michael had wanted to go somewhere more extravagant, arguing that they were all doing well enough for themselves to afford a little luxury – but his younger brothers didn't _want_ luxury and sophisticated atmosphere and fine dining. Oh no. They wanted something simple; something pokey and intimate and full of chatter.

And so, just like every other damn year, Michael was outvoted and _bam!_ Here they were. Plebeian central.

Fucking _typical_.

It was the same every year. At a prearranged date near the beginning of the month, twice a year, the brothers would all travel back to their hometown and spend the weekend together catching up on current events. Castiel travelled down from New York with entrepreneur extraordinaire Gabriel, who owned a chain of renowned patisseries and happened to live in Jersey with Dean's younger brother, the bright legal mind, Samuel Winchester. Lucifer, a critically acclaimed architect who dabbled in engineering on the side, came up from his beautiful ranch in southern Texas. And lastly, there was Michael, who, in spite of flying all the way from his extravagant beach house in California (having moved back after his brothers had all "flown the nest"), was always the last one to arrive, and was now Chief Surgeon at LA County General.

Normally it was only the four of them, though this month Lucifer had decided to bring along his latest squeeze – a charming little English crumpet by the name of Balthazar Roché whom the redhead had met at a fellow architect's bachelor party. Castiel and his kin were surprised to learn of Lucifer's alleged relationship – the fact that it had lasted longer than a few weeks something to be celebrated – and, even more shocking, the news that he would be bringing the blonde along to meet them all.

Of all the brothers, Lucifer had never been the type to settle down. Castiel had Dean, Gabriel adored his 'Samsquatch', and even Michael had bagged himself a sexy young resident intern by the name of Adam Milligan – whereas Lucifer had always been content to simply fuck his way through the states.

But all of the Novak siblings could see just how besotted the redhead was with his Brit. They had eyes only for each other, and were obviously still riding that perpetual high that fresh new relationships awarded; that blissful stage where it was hard to keep your hands to yourself and every waking minute spent together was used trying to get into each others pants – regardless of time, location or, indeed, company.

Castiel was exceedingly happy for his older brother, if not marginally concerned for his innocence remaining intact come the end of the weekend.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, bro," Gabriel was saying now, addressing Castiel's concerns as he helped himself to a rather large fudge sundae whilst the rest of them enjoyed a hot beverage. "The whole online gaming thing is just a way for guys to compare dick sizes without actually having to be in the same room as one another. It's a total dude thing."

Castiel frowned, hands curled around his cup of tea. "Am I not a 'dude', though?"

All three brothers chuckled, though it was Lucifer that answered with a sardonic smirk, "Sorry, Cassie, but you're about as much a dude as I am the devil."

"That's debatable, darling," Balthazar purred from beside him, waggling his eyebrows salaciously.

Lucifer's grin was positively wolfish. "Well, I see someone's in a saucy mood…" he murmured, leaning forward to indulge the blonde in a heated kiss.

"Oh for the love of all things unholy!" Gabriel groaned, looking for all the world like he was about to start retching.

Castiel politely averted his eyes, not really wanting to see such a passionate display when his own love life was seriously lacking these days. Michael, on the other hand, had absolutely no qualms whatsoever with delivering a swift kick to Lucifer's shin from under the table. Lucifer pulled away from his own brand of dessert with a hiss, glaring spitefully at his bigger brother. Michael returned the chilling glower tenfold, before turning his attention back to the littlest Novak.

"What Lucifer _means_ to say," he began with another pointed glare at the redhead, "is that you've never really been the most, uh… masculine of men."

Lucifer scoffed. "And how is that any better than what I said, exactly?"

"I didn't mean that how it sounded," Michael was quick to backpedal, his brow furrowed in irritation. "I just meant that he's not the manliest guy out there– that is, I mean… Well, he's got such a delicate nature and guileless disposition that it's hardly surprising he isn't interested in such violent and inane forms of entertainment."

"Would you like a shovel, brother? Might help with that hole you appear to be digging," Lucifer drawled with a vicious grin.

"Leave the poor boy alone," Balthazar scolded the two bickering Novaks, turning kind, stormy-grey eyes on the moping brunette. "You're not alone, love. I happen to know _exactly_ what you're going through."

"Hey now," Lucifer protested with an indignant snort. "I'm not _that_ bad."

"Oh, please," Balthazar scoffed, fixing the redhead with a boorish stare. "As soon as that headset goes on I might as well be invisible for all the attention I can wrangle out of you."

Michael grinned smugly at Lucifer, to which he was promptly given a one-fingered salute. "Bite me, Mikey. Like you're so perfect."

"Actually, with our hectic schedules, Adam and I like to spend our free time broadening our minds. We read new medical journals, visit museums and art galleries together, or go for long walks on the beach," Michael replied with an air of superiority. "I like to think we're a little too sophisticated for neuron-deteriorating activities such as gaming."

Snickering at Lucifer's not so subtle cough of "_Nerds_", Gabriel decided to throw his own two cents into the ring. "I can relate and all, baby bro. My Sammy is constantly out to prove that his cock is bigger than Dean's…" When Castiel looked fit to argue, Gabriel held up his hand. "Now, now, there's no need to be jealous. It's simple biology. My point is; there are countermeasures that have been proven to be very effective in the combat against Vegetative Boyfriend Syndrome." Gabriel couldn't help but notice that he now had the collective attention of the entire table. Smirking quietly to himself, he focused on Castiel. "Okay, so tell me; just how bad is Dean-o's 'affliction'?"

Castiel paused for a moment in thought, cycling through his most recent memories for the one which might be construed as the worst. "Well, just the other day, whilst he was in the middle of a match, I asked him what he would like for dinner, to which he replied, 'It's about half three, babe'." Balthazar winced in sympathy, whereas Lucifer laughed out loud, earning himself a harsh glare from everyone else at the table. "Then, the night before that, I had come home late from work. Dean was already there, playing online, and when I asked him if he had a good day, he told me I looked great and then shooed me out of the room…"

Smacking Lucifer upside the head when he laughed even harder, Balthazar gave Castiel a pitiful half-smile. "Ouch. That's pretty rough, sweetheart."

"I'll say!" Gabriel exclaimed, leaning back in his chair with a scowl. "If my Sammykins _ever_ brushed me off like that, he'd be gettin' real familiar with his right hand, let me tell you!"

"Gabriel, please," Castiel beseeched, his baby blues pleading for his help. "I feel like a stranger in my own home. What should I do?"

Reaching out, Gabriel clapped a reassuring hand on the brunette's shoulder. "Calm down, Cassie. You're awesome big bro's here to bitchslap your woes back into the Dark Ages!"

"We're all his big brothers," Michael stoically pointed out, to which Gabriel dutifully ignored.

"Tell me about your sex life," he implored instead, giving Castiel a probing kind of look that made the younger squirm in his seat.

"What about my sex life?" Castiel asked warily, not at all comfortable with the turn their conversation had taken.

"Don't be such a prude! We're all brothers here… sort of," Gabriel jibed with a playful grin, nudging Castiel in the ribs with his elbow. "Well, for starters, does it even exist any more?"

Castiel cast his gaze down to the decorative lace tablecloth, his cheeks flooding with warmth. "Dean and I enjoy a very, um… _active_ sex life, I guess you could say." Was it too cliché to wish that a giant, gaping void would suddenly open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole? "But in the weeks since he bought the game, we have only been intimate a handful of times – all of which were at Dean's leisure."

Michael quirked a brow at that. "So, you haven't tried seducing him at all in the last few weeks?"

Castiel ducked his head, picking absently at a fraying thread in the cloth. It was bad enough that Lucifer was belittling his masculinity, and Gabriel was prodding into his sexual prowess – all in front of a complete stranger, no less! – but now even Michael, his eldest brother and acting father figure for so many years, was climbing aboard the USS Torture.

Castiel was suddenly sorry he'd ever brought the subject up…

Clearing his throat, the youngest Novak attempted to sound as nonchalant as his wavering voice and sweating palms would allow. "Well, if you all _insist_ on knowing about my private bedroom activities… I actually attempted to 'seduce' Dean just last night. I knew I wouldn't see him all weekend, and figured it might be a nice way to say goodbye."

Gabriel tutted, shaking his head in evident dismay. "Ya see? Right there, _that's_ your problem."

"What is?" Castiel frowned, the other three men present also inclining forward in curiosity.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, like it should be obvious. "You say _seduce_ like you're quoting the dictionary!" Pulling his chair closer to Castiel, he fixed him with a stern gaze – rare, but highly effective. "I want you to tell me, in _exact detail_, how you allegedly 'seduced' your stud-muffin husband."

Castiel narrowed his eyes for the stud-muffin remark, but conceded all the same. "Well, I waited for him to finish his match so that he wouldn't be distracted, then I sat down close beside him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed that little spot behind his ear that usually, uh, _gets him going_…"

Gabriel blinked, waiting for the punch line. "And then…?" he prompted when it became obvious that he wasn't going to continue.

Castiel just stared blankly at him. "And then, nothing," he shrugged. "Dean told me he would be up to bed soon, kissed me on the forehead, and went back to his game." Glancing away from the troubled looks from his brothers and Balthazar, he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Needless to say, I fell asleep waiting up for him."

"You poor thing," Balthazar cooed, feeling for Castiel's plight.

But where Balthazar was concerned for his fragile state of mind over such blatant rejection, the three elder brothers were concerned for an entirely different reason.

"Wait… You mean that's _it_?" Lucifer asked, disbelief painted in thick lines all over his face. "A glorified cuddle and a measly little peck on the neck, and you expect the man to put out? _Fuck me_. I wouldn't put down my morning _newspaper_ for anything less than a guaranteed blowjob."

"I'll have to remember that," Balthazar murmured, flashing Lucifer a Cheshire grin. Lucifer smirked, hauling the blonde's chair over closer to his own and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"No disrespect, Cassie, babe, but I totes agree with Luci here," Gabriel chimed in before the two lovebirds could start making out again. "Your skills of seduction are just _embarrassing_, bro. I mean, are we even _related_?"

Castiel sat back with an audible huff, crossing his arms tetchily over his chest. "Well don't just sit there and mock me! Tell me what the hell I should be doing differently!"

"Okay," Gabriel clapped, happy to finally be getting down to the meat of the problem. "First and foremost is your approach – it's all wrong. You don't sit around and wait for your man to finish what he's doing – whether he's playing a stupid game or not. That gives him the illusion of being in control over you, and no Novak simpers under the boot of authority." Lucifer and Michael both nodded their agreement, and Gabriel grinned. "Rule number one; if you want something, you _take_ _it_. When Sam's online, or even just sitting in the den doing paperwork and other such _boring_ things, and I want his attention, I simply park my tush in his lap and demand it." Lacing his fingers behind his head, he shot Castiel a sassy wink. "The big lummox can't ever resist the opportunity to throw down cowboy style in his office space."

Michael made a soft noise of concurrence. "With such a heavy workload, Adam and I don't always have a lot of time for sex." Oh god, there it was; Michael had used the word _sex_. Castiel was officially scarred for life. "But whenever I find myself in the mood, and Adam's not too preoccupied with his studies, I've discovered that cornering him in a vacant janitor's closet or empty patient's room usually does the trick. The boy has quite the exhibitionist kink; just the thought of getting caught is enough to get him off."

"_Nice_," Gabriel praised, sorely tempted to give his uppity big bro a high-five. Castiel merely grimaced.

"Oh, that's nothing," Balthazar spoke up next, his grin positively oozing indecent intent. "This one here," he purred, walking his fingers up a rather ravenous looking Lucifer's chest, "has a real domination fetish going on. There's nothing he loves more than to pin me down, tie me up, and have his wicked, _wicked_ way with me…"

Lucifer growled, midnight blue eyes dark with desire as he dragged Balthazar in for a steamy kiss. Gabriel and Michael rolled their eyes in perfect unison, whereas Castiel buried his face in his hands and bemoaned his entire existence. There were just some things about ones own brothers that a man shouldn't ever have to know – their sexual preferences and favourite positions undeniably at the very pinnacle of said list.

"Your turn, Cassie," Gabriel grinned when Lucifer and Balthazar finally released one another, and suddenly the youngest Novak had four pairs of inquisitive eyes boring holes into his very core.

Scratching the back of his neck, Castiel swallowed thickly. "There's nothing to tell, really…"

"Don't give us that bullshit," Michael surprised them all by cursing, and completely unprovoked as well.

Chuckling, Lucifer backed up his brother. "Everybody has a naughty little secret that only comes to light in the bedroom," he drawled, smirking at Castiel's obvious discomfort – a clear sign that he was hiding something from them.

"We showed you ours…" Balthazar hummed, to which Gabriel finished with, "…Now show us yours."

Castiel knew there was no way out of this, that his brothers (and Balthazar) wouldn't ever let up until he gave them what they wanted – that they would continue to pester him long after this weekend was over unless he told them every sordid little detail. He realised that he could just make something up, something trivial and boring, but didn't exactly see the merit in lying when the topic of conversation was as sensitive as it was.

In for a penny, right…?

"Well, I, ah…" _Fucking hell_. May the Lord just strike him down and end his suffering already! Scrubbing a hand over his face in the grim hope of scouring the heated blush from his cheeks, Castiel decided to dive in head first. "I would sometimes, on occasion, put on… Uh, that is, I would wear– Only for Dean! Never just because, because I wanted to or anything…"

"For fuck's sake, Cassie!" Gabriel snapped, startling everyone. "Spit it out already! You're killing me here!"

"I sometimes wear women's underwear," Castiel suddenly blurted out, his face unbearably hot and his pulse pounding in his ears. "Dean bought me a pair of lacy blue panties one year for Valentine's Day – I guess it was supposed to be a joke, I don't know. But I put them on anyway." Okay, so apparently he was just talking to fill the deafening silence now. "I had some of the best sex of my life night. Dean was very dominating, and in charge, and I enjoyed that, so I started wearing them more often." Smiling mostly to himself, he glanced fleetingly around the table. "Every time he caught sight of me wearing them, it was like a switch had been flipped and he would turn into this prowling, carnal _beast_. He would follow me around, sneaking touches of the fabric and stealing quick kisses if we were out in public, and ravishing me senseless if we were at home…" Feeling slightly more confident now that the truth was laid bare for all to see, he swallowed back his fear of judgement and continued on. "For our honeymoon, I wanted to do something really special, something that would blow his mind the way he does mine every time we touch… so I surprised him on our first night as husband and husband with a silky white negligee and thigh high stockings – and I've never felt more powerful and dirty and loved in all my life."

There was a pregnant pause that hung over the table like a thick fog, and for every second that Gabriel, Lucifer and Michael spent gawping at him like so many fish out of water, Castiel felt his mounting dread of imminent ridicule rise another whole notch.

Rather unsurprisingly, it was Gabriel who broke the tension first, and with a raucous bark of laughter.

"Hoo-_boy_!" he guffawed, slapping his thigh as his eyes welled with mirth. "Who'd have thunk it, ey? Our little Cassie is a closet-freak!"

"The baby of the family is all grown up," Lucifer smirked, reaching across to ruffle Castiel's dark brown locks.

Michael didn't comment, but there was the unmistakable glimmer of amusement and affection in his azure blue eyes. Balthazar was merely grinning along with the others.

"So, our Deany-baby has a bit of a cross-dressing kink, hn? This is _perfect._" Gabriel's smile was wide and bordering on maniac, his hazel eyes brimming with untold mischief as he gazed at an increasingly suspicious Castiel. "Better buckle up, bro – 'cause by the time I'm done with ya, Dean-o's gonna be eating out'a the palm of your hand…"

Balthazar and Lucifer exchanged obscene grins, and Gabriel actually managed to goad Michael into a collaborative fist bump. Castiel could only watch with a cagey expression darkening his features and a sinking feeling twisting deep down in his gut. He wasn't entirely sure what was in store for him; when his brothers banded together like this, using their collective and vast repertoire of skills toward a common goal, it never spelled anything good. But there was one thing he knew for damn sure…

…Dean was going to pay a hefty price for his ignorance at the hands of the Novak brothers.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so I totes got all caught up in the new release of _Call of Duty: Ghosts_, and then this little beauty was born. Originally I wanted this to be a one-shot, but the plot got completely out of hand, and everybody just _had_ to have their own _backstory_ and _lovers_ and they wouldn't leave me _alone_ and... ulgh.

So yeah. It'll now be a two-shot. I'll get the second part up just as soon as I finish it - it may take a couple of days due to work, but hopefully I won't keep ya's hanging too long.

Anywho, please do enjoy, and if anyone has any requests/suggestions/desires that they might like to see brought to life in the next instalment, please feel free to leave a review or drop me a line and I'll see what I can do for y'all (:

Until next time,

**FMV**


	2. My Milkshake?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. I just borrow the boys for my own sordid entertainment. Is that a crime?

_(God, please tell me it's not a crime...)_

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, phone!sex. Does sexual manipulation count?

**Pairings:** Destiel, Sabriel.

Have at it, bitches!

* * *

_**.:All's Fair in Love and Modern Warfare:.**_

_'My Milkshake?'_

Castiel didn't know if he could do this.

Like Michael had said; he'd always been a little guileless and, to be honest, _vanilla_. He wasn't entirely sure that he could knowingly trick and deceive someone like his brothers had suggested, like they had spent all weekend rigorously (and mortifyingly) coaching him to do. He just wasn't built for the art of seduction – not that he'd ever had the need for such a thing before. Most days Dean only had to look at him and that was enough. It didn't matter if he had just rolled out of bed and was in desperate need of a shower; if he'd just returned home from work, his mood sour and appearance haggard; he was pretty sure he could be struck down with the bubonic plague, sweating and delirious with fever, covered from head to toe in hideous buboes, and Dean would still be attracted to him.

Of course, all of that only applies when Dean actually _looks_ at him, something he hasn't been inclined to do in quite some time.

Obviously he _sees_ Castiel – as much as he feels it these days, the brunette is perfectly aware that he is not some kind of translucent spectre haunting his own home – but it is as if Dean is looking straight through him. He sees Castiel standing there, acknowledges his existence, but it is on a very base and simplistic level of recognition. Much like one is aware of the air all around them, but, in spite of its necessity, never really pauses to give it any due attention.

That's exactly how Castiel was feeling right now – essential but unappreciated.

And it was high time he put his foot down.

Setting his duffle bag by the front door on his return home, Castiel slid off his cumbersome tan trench coat and hung it up on the rack. Dean's iconic leather jacket was already there, and a soft smile touched Castiel's lips. Perhaps he might catch Dean doing something a little more constructive today; preparing dinner maybe, or watching one of those Big Cats documentaries he seems to enjoy so much. Or perhaps he'd find him kicking back with a glass of wine, listening to Tchaikovsky and lost in a good book.

Okay, so that last one was a bit of a stretch of the imagination, even under normal circumstances. But a man could dream.

Making his way further into their cosy two bed apartment, his every hope of civility and conversation was dashed with the sudden, indignant cry of, "That's total bullshit, man!", accompanied shortly thereafter by the sporadic clamour of rapid gunfire and a computerised voice informing the players that they had "lost the lead."

Good mood plummeting, Castiel entered their living area to find Dean exactly where he'd left him two days previous – with his backside seemingly rooted to their couch and wired jade eyes staring unwaveringly at their 50" plasma screen television. Castiel noted with some degree of concern and, admittedly, repugnance, that his husband was wearing the exact same shirts as when he'd left early on Friday morning, leading the brunette to believe that Dean had been attaining whatever little sleep he had gotten the past three days by crashing (fully clothed) on the couch.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel approached Dean from behind, threading his fingers through Dean's short, dirty-blonde hair in lieu of a more traditional greeting. Unsurprisingly, Dean had had absolutely no idea whatsoever that Castiel was even standing there, and damn near jumped three feet out of his skin at the unexpected touch.

Eyes wide and startled, Dean turned marginally to find his husband frowning at him, one hand gripping the controller and the other clutching at his pounding heart. "Jesus fuck, Cas," he breathed, pretty positive he was slipping into cardiac arrest. "Don't sneak up on a man like that! You almost gave me a damn heart attack, dude!"

"I wasn't 'sneaking' anywhere, Dean," Castiel replied shortly, more irritated than amused at his husband's dramatic reaction. "You were otherwise engaged, and I simply wished to make my presence known."

"Shit, yeah. Sorry." Twisting in his seat, Dean rose up on his knees, grabbing Castiel by the collar of his sweater and pulling him down into a sweet kiss. Drawing back, he licked his lips and flashed the brunette a dashing grin. "Welcome home, Angel."

Heart swelling with warmth, Castiel returned the smile, already beginning to forget why he was ever upset with the beautiful man in front of him in the first place. "Thank you, Dean." Taking full advantage of the situation whilst it presented itself, Castiel cupped Dean's jaw and dragged him into the kind of filthy hot kiss that Dean himself could be proud of, the kind with more teeth than tongue, and that stole the very breath from your lungs. Humming contentedly at the slightly blissed out look on Dean's face when they parted, Castiel smiled. "I'm glad to be home. I've missed you."

Little did Dean know, Castiel wasn't just referring to having been away all weekend.

Dean looked like he might say something more, something not at all rated-PG judging by the wicked gleam in his eye, but just as he opened his mouth to speak his train of thought was interrupted by the chatter in his ear, and instead he rolled his eyes, shooting Castiel an apologetic look as he dropped back down into his seat.

"Yeah, yeah; I'm still here, bitch."

Feeling rather miffed at the apparent dismissal, Castiel sighed and made for the door. He had laundry to contend with, anyway.

He was just about to step out into the hall, leaving Dean to his own selfish devices, when the sudden question of, "So, how was your weekend?" stopped him short.

Abnormally happy at the acknowledgment, Castiel replied with a warm smile, "Well, for three days spent with my brothers, it was actually very–"

It wasn't until Dean interrupted him with a light-hearted chuckle and the words, "No way! That sucks, man…" that Castiel realised he hadn't been referring to him at all, but rather one of his online 'buddies'. The following query of, "Hey, so what's for dinner?" was, however, directed toward him, and Castiel could feel his jaw clenching in anger.

The sooner he implemented his brothers' counsel, the better…

…otherwise Dean might not make it to see tomorrow.

* * *

"What it all essentially boils down to is; which is more important? You or some stupid game?"

Castiel gave Gabriel a dubious kind of stare. "Do I have to answer that right now? Because I'm not entirely sure I would win that contest based on the last few days…"

"Oh, Cassie. Still so young and naïve," Gabriel chuckled, giving him a condescending pat on the back. "Of course you can't hope to _win_. It's Call of Duty, for crying out loud! You haven't a chance in hell of competing!"

Castiel frowned, thoroughly confused. "But I thought–"

"It's new and exciting; the latest craze," Balthazar weighed in, just as unhelpful and despairing as Gabriel. "All of his friends have and devote every spare minute to it – he's not going to risk becoming a social pariah just because you're feeling a little lonely. It's all about status, darling."

"And cock size," Gabriel reiterated with a pointed stare. "Don't forget about cock size."

Michael and Lucifer rolled their eyes, and Balthazar conceded with a shrug of the head.

"So, what you're saying is – there's no hope?" Castiel inquired, his heart sinking. "I simply have to wait this 'craze' out, until Dean becomes bored and everything goes back to normal?"

"Heavens, no!" Balthazar argued at the same time Gabriel scoffed, "Who the fuck said anything about 'waiting'?"

"Dean-o's not playing fair, right?" Gabriel continued, Castiel confirming his words with a hesitant nod. "Right, so you gotta throw the gloves down; fight dirty."

Castiel swallowed, suddenly nervous. "I, uh… I don't know if I could do that…"

"It doesn't have to be anything too drastic," Balthazar assured him, smiling benignly. "You just have to show the man what he's missing."

"Exactly!" Gabriel exclaimed, punching a fist into his open palm. "You gotta make him sweat; make him want you so bad he'll forget he ever knew what a Playstation was… and then, just when you have him wrapped around your little finger, so hard for your body he's practically _begging_ for it at your feet, you gotta snatch it all right back again."

Castiel blinked, arching a dark brow. "Wouldn't that prove rather counterproductive?"

"It's all part of the game, sweetheart," Balthazar grinned, respectfully ignoring the calculating midnight gaze Lucifer was throwing his way. "You have to make this Dean fellow pay for his mistakes, show him what he's missing; otherwise he's never going to learn his lesson."

"But I thought that playing games was the whole problem in the first place?" Castiel argued, his brow knotted as if trying to solve a particularly perplexing puzzle. "Surely there is another avenue of action we could explore?"

Balthazar looked to Gabriel with a fond little grin. "Isn't he just darling?"

"Yeah. He's real precious," Gabriel scoffed, the eye roll implied in his tone. Turning back to his absurdly clueless brother, he tried again. "It's called 'fighting fire with fire', Cassie – and it works. _Trust me_."

Castiel normally knew better than to invest any amount of blind faith in his brother's convictions – the same brother that used to torture him as a kid, that put salt on his cereal, and told him that French kissing girls was the leading cause of rabies, and that every time he touched himself an angel died…

But he was desperate.

Knowing he would probably live to regret his decision, and fighting down his every natural instinct to the contrary, Castiel inclined his head. "Okay. Tell me what I should do."

Gabriel gave a slow grin, and Castiel found the regret budding surprisingly early.

* * *

Castiel began the preparations the very next morning.

"_Okay, the first step is re-establishing your existence. Be a shameless flirt – but for the love of Christ, be subtle about it!"_

With those words in mind, Castiel purposefully set his alarm ten minutes earlier than he would usually care to get up for work. Rolling over in their plush, queen sized bed, he was pleasantly surprised to find his husband snoring lightly on his back beside him.

_Perfect._

Hitting the snooze button, Castiel nestled up close to Dean's sleep-warmed body, hitching a long leg over Dean's hip and curled his arm around his neck. Humming, he nuzzled his face into the sun-bronzed flesh of Dean's throat, his lips brushing feather-light over his pulse and his breath rolling in warm waves over his skin. Dean mumbled in his sleep, brows furrowing and fingertips twitching as Castiel continued to cuddle up tight against him.

Trailing his fingers down the centre of Dean's chest, Castiel grinned when the man made an unintelligible noise and his hand came up of its own volition to rest upon Castiel's hip, subconsciously pulling him closer.

Thrilled with the response, Castiel decided to up the ante and carefully repositioned himself so that he was lying partially on top of his sleeping husband, slipping a leg between Dean's thighs and biting his lip at the answering hardness he found there. Dean groaned at the contact, his hand flexing against his hip, and Castiel, now full-out grinning, nipped playfully at Dean's rapidly escalating pulse.

Dean made a soft growling noise in the back of his throat that had Castiel flushing with arousal, his own cock twitching in interest as he rolled his hips against Dean's leg. Forgetting himself in the heady fog of carnal lust, he sucked a bruise into the delicate flesh under Dean's jaw and palmed at the swelling length straining against the man's boxer briefs.

Dean moaned out loud this time, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled through the thick, tangled web somewhere between a deep unconsciousness and the waking world. He wasn't aware enough to know exactly what was going on, only that his body was pleasantly warm and buzzing with excitement, and that he never wanted it to stop.

After a particularly delicious moan tumbled from wonderfully kissable lips, Castiel was mere seconds away from tearing both of their boxer shorts off and dragging Dean on top of him, conscious or not, and all but pleading for satisfaction… and then his alarm blared to life once more, snapping him out of his lust-drunk haze and reminding him of his original plan.

Quickly settling down on Dean's chest, letting his eyes slip closed and his body fall lax, Castiel feigned sleep as Dean finally roused beneath him.

Confused and disorientated – not to mention a whole fucking mess of _turned on_ – Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand and glanced down at the unruly mop of dark brunette hair tickling his chin. Reaching over, he slapped off the bloody alarm before wrapping his arms tight about Castiel's waist, smirking to himself when he shifted and discovered that the brunette was just as hard as he was right now.

_Awesome._

Sliding his hands down to cup the younger's perky bottom, Dean gave a hearty squeeze and pull, dragging their hips together in a slow grind. Castiel had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning out loud, instead meticulously schooling his features and body to appear as though he was only just waking up.

"Mm, Dean?" he asked, blinking slowly and giving himself props for the rather credible groggy edge to his voice.

Dean gave a sharp toothed grin, his jade eyes glittering in the early morning light filtering in through their filmy curtains. "Expecting someone else, were you?" he teased, giving the pert globes of Castiel's ass another cheeky squeeze. "I'm hurt, babe. But don't worry, I'm in a very… _forgiving_ mood."

'_Oh, I'll bet you are, Dean Winchester,'_ Castiel thought with a mental scoff, only just resisting the urge to give the man a right good scolding then and there.

Composing himself, he stretched long and languorous right there on top of Dean, his lithe limbs and athletic body rubbing against Dean in all the right ways to make him tip his head back and moan, clutching the brunette tight against his sculpted torso. Castiel concealed a devious little smirk behind the guise of a yawn, pecking Dean on the cheek before gently swatting his hands away and rolling off of him.

Dean frowned at the sudden chill that seeped into his skin in the absence of Castiel's body heat, his cock still prepped and ready to go as the brunette clambered to the edge of the bed. Reacting much quicker than he would have thought possible having just woke up, Dean caught Castiel by the wrist before the man could get up and leave him unfulfilled.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where d'ya think _you're_ goin'?" he demanded rather than asked, attempting to lure the brunette back into his arms with an amorous kiss to the weak spot on the nape of his neck. Castiel shivered and Dean smirked. "C'mon, Angel – come back to bed, and I promise I'll make all your dreams come true…"

Oh, that devious, silver tongue. It would surely be the death of him.

Steeling his resolve – but oh how tempting it was to simply give in – Castiel managed to wriggle out of Dean's possessive hold and stand up. Clearing his throat, and discreetly adjusting his fairly insistent arousal, he offered his baffled lover a repentant smile from over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he began as he manoeuvred about the room, picking up the clothes he would be wearing that day. "But I really must start getting ready for work."

Still, Dean was undeterred. "I'm sure you could spare twenty minutes," he simpered, flashing the brunette his most seductive 'come hither' look as he pat the space beside him. "C'mon, Cas. Don't make me start without you…"

Castiel faltered at that, deliberately averting his gaze when Dean lounged himself back against the headboard and waggled his eyebrows, one arm curled behind his head whilst his other hand snapped the elastic of his boxer's waistband in a very suggestive manner.

Throat suddenly parched, Castiel stammered out a hasty, "I really shouldn't – I have a lot of, uh… stuff to do today."

Dean sputtered, not used to be refused anything – especially not sex. "Ten minutes?" he tried, hardly able to believe that he'd been reduced to bartering.

"Sorry," Castiel replied, though Dean couldn't help but feel that he wasn't in the least bit remorseful. "Maybe later."

"Later?" Dean parroted, features painted in bewilderment as Castiel quickly shuffled out of the room. "Cas, wait! You can't just leave me hangin' like this! Dude, come on! Five minutes? A quick blowjob? Cas…? Cas!"

Castiel stood just outside the bedroom door, his clothes clutched close to his chest and a small smile curling his lips as Dean pleaded and bargained for his attention. He had to admit that it felt surprisingly good to be the one in control of the relationship for once, that the sound of _the_ Dean Winchester begging for his body was something of a thrill.

Pushing away from the wall and making his way toward the bathroom, he had to stifle a mirthful laugh at Dean's parting curse, the words echoing down the hallway and saturated with a heavy dose of frustration…

"_Son of a bitch!_"

* * *

"When you've successfully proven that you are, in fact, still alive… The second phase is kind'a simple. You've heard of the term 'cocktease', right?"

"I am aware, yes."

"Beautiful. Now, don't be afraid to get creative. You've got the milkshake, Cassie –we just gotta get the boys to the yard."

"I don't understand that reference…"

"He means; if you've got it, flaunt it."

"Why so interested in the conversation all of a sudden, Mikey?"

"Because I won't see a Novak bested by the likes of a Winchester. That is why, _Luci_."

"Simmer down, you two. And don't fret, Cassie – a little bit of innocence and naivety will actually go a long way in this stage. Use it to your advantage…"

* * *

Castiel was beginning to see the merit to Gabriel's words.

It was two days after the 'morning incident', and he had somehow managed to successfully rebuff and politely refuse Dean's every advance. It was hard work (literally) given Dean's natural charisma and smooth moves – both of which he had gained and honed since his early teens. The man was always so sexually charged it was difficult to ignore him in any given situation, let alone when he was purposefully trying to seduce you.

Saying 'no' to Dean Winchester was like trying to swim upstream – irrational and oftentimes completely absurd.

Still, Castiel got his reprieve when Dean would ultimately become fed up or too frustrated with his efforts of dragging him off to bed (or the nearest available surface sturdy enough to hold their combined weight) and would retreat to lick his wounds with long hours spent gaming online.

Which, rather ironically, afforded Castiel with the perfect opportunity to implement phase two of his master plan.

Take right now, for example…

Castiel let out a long, even breath, bringing himself out of a simple cobra pose and, situating himself up onto his knees upon his padded roll-up mat, curved backward into the spine-bending camel pose. He had always been a very spiritual and carefree kind of being, so it was no real surprise that yoga and meditation were his favourite methods of relaxation. Not to mention that Dean had always enjoyed the benefits of his supple and overly flexible body.

Speaking of Dean…

The Kansas-born male was trying his damnedest to keep his eyes focused on the current match he was playing, but his traitorous body was fighting him every fucking step of the way, his gaze surreptitiously sliding over toward where Castiel was blatantly _torturing_ him just off to the left of the screen. Did he really have to do that yoga crap right now?

In the _same room_?

Quirking a brow when the brunette bent right back into a freaking _triangle_, his head on the floor by his feet and the creamy skin of his toned stomach on display at the apex, Dean felt his mouth turn to fucking sandpaper.

"Sweet baby Jesus," he muttered, partly in awe, but mostly in lust, his gaze now fixated upon his lover's criminally flexible form. Being that bendy just _had_ to be illegal…

There was a crackle in his ear that went completely unheeded. _"Dude… Dean…? Dean!"_

"What!" he snapped, eyes flicking back to the screen just in time to witness his character (the aptly named **_caslicker69_**) die, mercilessly knifed in the back whilst his attention was miles away. "Damn it! Jammy little bastard…"

"_There was nothing 'jammy' about it."_ Dean rolled his eyes. Freakin' Sam. Always had _something_ smart alecy to say.

"_Dude, your bro's right,"_ Ash, one of Dean's own employees from the garage, chimed in next, and Dean could just _see_ him flicking those ridiculous mullet-bangs out of his eyes. _"The hell happened to ya, guy? That dude totally just fucked you right in the ass…"_

"Shut up, man. I was…" Jade eyes flickered briefly over to Castiel before snapping back to the screen again. "…distracted."

"_Well pull yourself together, Dean,"_ Sam chided, disapproving scowl implied in his tone. _"I don't know about you, but I don't plan on losing to freaking Crowley and Ruby… not again."_

"_Sam's right,"_ Ash agreed wholeheartedly. _"That Ruby chick is one tough customer – especially when she's gloatin', man…"_

"How about you guys get off my case and get a damn haircut instead?" Dean growled, one eye tracking his player's progress through the map and the other roving over Castiel as he changed positions yet again. "Friggin' hippies…"

Meanwhile, Castiel couldn't help but smile to himself, knowing that a lot of Dean's anger was simply misplaced frustration from his days of flirtatious teasing and sexual harassment. Rising up to his feet, he made sure to position himself so that his back was facing Dean and stretched his arms out, limbering up, before bending right down so that his forearms were laid out flat and his head was resting against the mat, his backside left sticking high up in the air. He heard Dean choke and sputter on his drink and grinned, easing himself out of the dolphin pose and stretching out his arms, moving fluidly into the ever popular downward-facing dog.

Dean was in absolute agony. Did Castiel even know what he was doing to him right now? Was it merely coincidence that his current pose (one which Dean had always affectionately referred to as 'doggy style') gave him a _damn_ awesome view of that perfectly round and taut ass?

Eyes transfixed and mouth practically salivating, Dean felt his heart begin to race, pumping his blood thick and hot throughout his veins. Those black lycra leggings clung to Castiel's body like a second skin, accentuating long, lean legs perfect for wrapping around his waist, and slender, narrow hips that were just the right blend of bone for nibbling and flesh for grabbing hold of when their passion boiled over into the realms of feral.

And then there was that ass… Nicely rounded and plump, but without being too big; soft enough to dig your fingers into, and yet muscular enough to take a good hearty smack from Dean's big, rough hands. It was as close to godly perfection as anything Dean had ever seen, and as he stared shamelessly at it now, he just want to reach out and… and…

Dean blinked, shifting forward in his seat to get a better view. He couldn't be sure, not with the poor lighting and the distance, but he could have sworn he caught a glimpse of… Was that a…

Was Cas wearing a _thong_?!

"Oh, spank me _hard_," he groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head as lust whipped like a bolt of white-hot lightening throughout his entire being.

"_Uh, Dean?"_ Sam tentatively inquired, the discomfort he was feeling clear in his tone. _"Everything okay over there?"_

"_Yeah, dude,"_ Ash pitched in with a nervous chuckle. _"Kind of an awkward request to ask of your best bud… and, y'know, your brother…"_

"…_Dean? Oi, Dean!"_ A long, weary sigh. _"For the love of… You've got to be kidding me!"_

"_Save your breath, baby Winchester. We lost him."_

And they had. For Dean had already made his excuses and beat a hasty retreat from the room, mumbling something about needing a break and hitting the shower. Castiel played his part well, acting confused and puzzled as Dean all but fled the room, all whilst brimming with pride at his ingenuity on the inside.

* * *

"Right, by this stage you'll have him up against the ropes. He'll be cranky and moody and PMSing worse than Luci's date on prom night…"

"Hey! She wasn't all _that_ bad…"

"Bela Talbot was a bitch, dude – get over it."

"Gabriel, please focus. We're doing this for Castiel's benefit, not for you to crack wise…"

"Oh, don't even get me started on your prom date, Mikey! But he does make a good point. Listen up, Cassie… We're on the homestretch now, and that means you gotta give a little something back."

"I don't understand."

"Well, if you forever dangle the steak in front of the dog without actually giving it a little taste every now and then, then the dog's just gonna wander off and find it somewhere else… You see what I'm saying?"

"Yes. I think so…" A pause. "No. I have no idea what you're saying."

"Still think he's 'just _darling_', Balthy? _Ulgh_. What I'm saying is, if you don't give Dean something to chew on every once in a while, he's gonna find other means of nutrition elsewhere, without you… Savvy?"

"So… I give in? We have sex?"

"Fuck no! Just a taste, Cassie – we don't want him to have the whole slab, otherwise; what's left?"

"I believe I am beginning to understand…"

"Hallelujah!"

"Stick a sock in it, Luce! Now, tell me, little brother – how happy are you with your long distance provider?"

* * *

Dean was having a real long and shitty day.

Hell, make that _week_.

He didn't know what the fuck was going on with him, but lately all he could think about was Castiel. From the very moment he opened his eyes, body swaddled in the brunette's limbs, to the second his eyelids melded shut when yet another exhausting day finally took its toll. It seemed his every waking moment was assaulted by all things Castiel.

Even at work, for the six to eight hours that they were apart, he still couldn't escape the man! His mind plagued with living fantasies of his handsome face and beautiful blue eyes, of soft, creamy skin and the sweet, loving kisses they would share on a lazy Sunday morning when neither of them had anywhere better to be.

All of which seemed to be nothing more than a distant memory what with Castiel's sudden reluctance to let Dean anywhere near him these days. Jesus Christ, he'd only ever had to _look_ at the brunette before and he was putty in his hands! But now… now Dean was throwing some of his best moves at the guy – the same kind of moves that landed him the Irvine twins, and Lisa Braeden, the smokin' hot cheerleader from across town – and nothing. Nada.

_Zip_.

It had been just over a week now, and Dean was growing seriously concerned for his physical health. Perpetual blue-balls and the rejuvenation of his virginity being his main concerns.

It was during his lunch hour, eating his homemade black bean and brown rice salad ("It's healthy, Dean") whilst simultaneously trying to blot out Ash's detailed recount of last night's score – because, seriously? What kind of topsy-turvy universe are they living in where Ash, friggin' _Mullet-Man_, is up all night getting lucky and he's left begging for scraps? – with co-worker Benny, when his mobile suddenly vibrated against his leg.

Sending up a quick prayer of thanks to whichever deity was currently watching over him, Dean wrestled the phone from his pocket, a doting smile lighting up his face at the caller ID flashing across the screen.

"Hey, Cas," he greets happily upon answering, holding the phone in his left hand so that he can continue his lunch with the right. "It's been a long while since you called me at work. Somethin' the matter?"

"Hello, Dean." Oh, that deep, husky voice. Like liquid silk poured over gravel. It never ceased to make Dean's heart stutter a beat – and may it never change. "Uh, no. Everything is quite satisfactory, I assure you."

Dean frowned, swallowing his mouthful of rice before saying, "O-kay. So, if nothing's up – then why the call?"

"I merely wished to speak with you. I was close to home earlier this afternoon, so I decided just to have lunch at the apartment. Which is, uh, where I am right now."

"Right." Dean cocked a brow at nothing in particular, plastic spork chasing stray beans around his bowl as his mind turned over trying to find a topic of conversation to follow that one up. "So, ah… What'cha doin'?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Seriously? That was the best he could come up with? He really hated his brain sometimes…

"Nothing much," Castiel answered, and there was a certain lilt to it that was piquing Dean's interest, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on whether it was something good or bad. "I'm just in the bedroom."

"You're eating lunch in the _bedroom_?" Dean asked, unable to suppress the accusatory edge to his tone. _He_ wasn't ever allowed to eat in the bedroom…

As if sensing Dean's hypocritical outrage, Castiel sighed. "No. I'm not eating anything, Dean. I'm just sitting here, on our bed."

Okay, now Dean was just outright confused. "Are you gonna take a nap? Work stress you out or something? Maybe you should take an advil and sleep it off…"

"I'm not tired, Dean. And I don't require any medication." There was an awkward moment of silence, where Dean could hear Castiel shifting around on their sheets, and his brows furrowed deeper. "I just thought that you might be interested to know that I am in our home, lying on our marital bed… completely naked."

Dean promptly inhaled his latest mouthful and began choking, thumping hard on his chest to try and dislodge the errant rice from his windpipe. Ash and Benny were on their feet in a heartbeat, Benny clapping Dean's back with his large, callused hands and Ash fetching him a drink of water from the cooler. Dean accepted both gratefully.

"You okay, brother?" Benny asked in his rich, southern drawl, his dark eyes pinched in concern.

"Uh, yup! I'm cool; totally fine." Rising up from his chair so fast that he knocked it over, Dean held his mobile tight to his chest and made a beeline for the employee restroom. "I gotta take this. It's, ah, very important… You guys just, carry on there… Ah, yeah…"

When Dean disappeared through the door, Benny turned a bewildered look to Ash, who just shrugged helplessly.

"Don't ask me, man," he said, seating himself back at the table. "He's been actin' nuttier than squirrel shit all week."

Benny quirked a brow but didn't comment further, instead joining his work colleague to finish their lunch.

Meanwhile, Dean's heart was pounding in his throat as he locked himself in the small bathroom, jade eyes wide and hand lightly trembling as he put the phone back up to his ear.

"Jesus fuck, Cas," he breathed, his voice a harsh whisper. "You tryin' to kill me? I almost choked to death on that crappy rabbit food you made me!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay, babe. I'll live… So, are you really naked right now?"

"Yes."

"_Shit_…" Dean swallowed, his dick perking up in obvious interest. "It's been a long time since we did this, huh?"

When Castiel had been swamped with his studies, and Dean elbow deep in his apprenticeship at the garage, they had both made sure to take some time out of their busy schedules for one another, even if it was just a phone call or a simple text. For someone usually so shy and reserved, Dean had quickly discovered that Castiel wasn't quite so prudish behind closed doors. His extensive vocabulary and dark, smoky voice practically _made_ for phone sex.

Castiel hummed in agreement over the line, and Dean leaned back against the grubby sink unit. "Tell me more, Cas…"

"I lied before. I actually had to blow off a client today just to come home. I've been thinking about doing this all day, since I woke up this morning, and I just couldn't wait any longer…"

Dean palmed himself through his grease stained jeans, hissing at the pressure and harsh friction. "Damn, Cas. You been hard for me all day? Did you touch yourself? Get yourself off before you made it home?"

"No…" A whimper. "I couldn't. I wanted– no, I _needed_ to hear your voice… I couldn't do it; not without you, Dean."

"Fuck. You always did have a filthy mouth." Fumbling with his belt, Dean quickly unbuttoned his jeans and slid his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, his head falling back with a moan when his fingers wrapped around the heated flesh of his cock. "Are you touching yourself now?"

"Not yet…"

"Good. Keep it that way," Dean growled, his fingers working languidly over his swelling shaft. "God, it feels like forever since I last touched you, Cas. What's it been? Six, seven days?"

"Eight and a half," Castiel answered, his voice light and airy. "The last time we made love was the night before I left for Kansas."

Dean cycled back through his memories, quickly locating the night in question and grinning when it played out in his mind like a movie reel. "Oh, yeah. That's right. I had you panting good and proper that night; fucked your throat raw before sitting you down on my dick and letting you ride me like a fuckin' stud."

Castiel gave a breathless gasp. "_Dean_…"

"What about last month, the night before you had that conference in Michigan… Do you remember that night, Cas?"

"Yes, _yes_," Castiel moaned, the sound burning down Dean's spine. "I do, Dean."

Gripping himself harder, Dean growled. "You were so fucking sexy, Cas; begging for me as I bent you over the bathroom sink, so greedy for my cock you could barely speak, screaming my name so loud I just know those bratty little kids next door could hear you… You were such a perfect little cockslut, baby, moaning so pretty for me I could barely stand to finger you open, just plowed straight in and fucked you stupid, yanked on your hair and made you watch as you lost your fucking _mind_ on the end of my cock."

"D-Dean!" A stuttered cry, and Dean knew Castiel was getting desperate. "Please, _please_, Dean…"

Pulling his dick, now heavy and leaking with arousal, free from the confines of his pants, he gave himself a few harsh pumps, letting his grunts of pleasure filter through the receiver.

"I'm not gonna do all the work here, Cas. Talk to me, Angel; touch yourself and tell me what you like about being my bitch…"

Dean could hear the exact moment Castiel took hold of himself, the brunette's breathy whimper spiking his own excitement like nothing else ever could. His body was smouldering for his blue-eyed lover; skin sweating, lungs burning, heart racing. His soul would always glow brightest for his Cas.

"I like it when you take control," Castiel was saying, snapping Dean from his idle daydreaming. "That overprotective glint you get in your eye when you catch someone else looking at me, the one that's just on the right side of domineering and lets me know that I'm in for some rough lovemaking when you get me home."

"So, you like it when I'm possessive?"

"Yes, _oh_ _god_… _yes_." Dean caught the hitch in breath, and knew that Castiel was working himself over good now, could just picture the brunette splayed obscenely across their soft, cotton sheets, face scrunched up in pleasure as his hand tugged furiously at his cock. The mental image made Dean suck in a sharp breath, and he added a little twist of the wrist on his every upstroke to heighten his own pleasure. "I love it when you pin me down, Dean," Castiel breathed, his voice a sultry purr. "When you're so blinded by lust and jealousy you become more beast than man. The way your big, strong hands hold down my wrists and your body surrounds me; the way you ram in hard and savage, so deep I swear I can taste it; the way you sink your teeth into my skin and mark me all over, for all to see and know that I'm not for sale, that I belong to _Dean Winchester_…"

Dean's hand worked at a furious pace, his balls drawing up tight to his body as his orgasm ebbed ever closer. "Fuck yeah, Cas," he groaned, the words growled out from behind gritted teeth. "All mine. Gonna mark you up real nice the next chance I get, make sure the bruises don't heal for fucking _weeks_. Would you like that, baby? To brandish my mark for weeks? Maybe I'll get you inked; 'property of Dean fucking Winchester' in a nice little tramp stamp right above your ass…"

Dean was just spewing senseless filth at this stage – with all the blood from his brain pulsing in the head of his dick, his mind had melted into a lust-hazed pile of witless mush – but _damn_. The thought of Castiel – sweet, angelic little Cas – with something as bold and outrageous as a tattoo really got his blood boiling.

"Nngh, _Dean_!" Well, it seemed that Dean wasn't the only one revved up by the idea. "I would gladly wear your mark, would let you brand my body any way you wished… Anything you want, Dean. _Anything you want_…"

"Shit, Cas," he groaned, his dick pulsing with need as he fucked into his fist. "I'm so close, babe… So fuckin' close." Eyes wildly dilated and breathing heavily laboured, he grit his jaw and forced himself to hold back. He couldn't finish, not yet. "Say it, Cas. Come on, Angel. Tell me what I want to hear…"

The sound of Castiel panting and whimpering in his ear was making it exceedingly difficult to stave off his climax, his mind reeling with the erotic portrait his mind was painting of the brunette writhing on their bed, the sheets bunched up around his body and sticky with sweat, that long, lean back rising from the mattress in a perfect arch as his head tipped back and those sparkling blue eyes rolled in ecstasy.

And yet it wasn't the orgasm-inducing mental pictures, or even the stuttered, wanton moans that got Dean off. It was those three, simple little words. The same words he heard every single day.

The ones that told him everything he could ever possibly want to know…

_"I love you, Dean."_

Castiel wasn't even halfway through saying them when Dean came, _hard_, his every muscle seizing up with sweet, sweet euphoria and his head snapping back so fast he was afraid he'd get whiplash. He heard Castiel shudder and moan out his own release, obviously tipped over the metaphorical edge by the sound of Dean achieving orgasm.

Dean could only laugh as he basked in the hazy afterglow, his body racked with pleasurable tremors as he milked himself through the last few waves of climax, his hand, shirt, and even a corner of his boot spattered with the pearlescent product of his desire.

"Well, fuck me sideways," he chuckled, grimacing when he almost ran his soiled hand through his hair. "That was… _amazing_, Cas. I don't know what brought that on, but whatever it was I feel like kissing it full on the mouth right about now!"

"It was very enjoyable indeed," Castiel agreed, and hell if Dean didn't feel oddly smug about the fucked out, almost abrasive quality to his voice. There was some rustling around on the other line, and Dean imagined the brunette was climbing off the bed. "I'm sorry to sound so abrupt, but I really must go, Dean. I have to get cleaned up and return back to work."

"Naw, that's cool, babe. Ditto." Grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser to his right, Dean made a start on just that. "So, I'll see you tonight then, yeah?"

"Yes. Tonight."

Okay, it could have just been his blissed out brain playing tricks on him, but Dean was fairly certain there was a little inflection behind that last word – an invitation – and his dick gave a valiant twitch it was too spent to follow through on.

Dean needlessly bobbed his head and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip. "Yeah… Tonight."

Castiel chuckled, his tone affectionate and, dare he think it, flirtatious? "Goodbye, Dean."

"See ya, Cas."

Met soon thereafter by the universal dial tone, Dean hung up and stared down at the blank screen of his mobile for several long, quiet seconds, before a slow grin tugged at his lips.

Oh, hell yeah!

He was _totally_ getting laid tonight.

* * *

Rushing back to the apartment just as soon as he could close up shop, he rolled into the parking garage at minutes past six in the evening. Guiding the impala into her usual spot by the stairwell, he cut the engine, locked Baby down for the night and was racing up the steps in the space of five seconds.

Fumbling with his keys and cursing his impatience to the pits of Hell and back again, he finally got the door open and stormed inside. Slamming the door behind him, he kicked off his boots and shucked his leather jacket.

"Cas?" he called out, fingers quickly unbuttoning his green flannel shirt as he ambled through to the living room. No one there. "Yo, Cas!" he called again, throwing his shirt over the back of the couch and stripping himself of his faded Led Zeppelin as he made his way to the kitchen. "Your handsome hubby's home!"

But there was no one there, either. Huh…

Frowning, he checked his watch and scratched at the back of his head. Castiel should be well home now. His work day usually finished at five, and if ever he was going to be late he would always call Dean in advance to let him know – he was just responsible like that.

Baffled, he rest his hand on his hips – and that's when it hit him. The bedroom!

_Duh._

Grinning, he made his way down he hall, unbuckling his belt and the button on his jeans for quick and easy access. With all of the sexual frustration he had pent up these past lot of days, he really didn't want to have to wait a second longer than absolutely necessary to get both himself and Castiel naked. The sooner his wanton little sex-kitten was purring underneath him, the sooner Dean could forget this horrid week had ever come to pass…

"Ready or not, Angel," he sang from the other side of the door, his hand wrapping around the handle as he pushed it open. "Here I… come?"

Dean blinked, staring into the darkness of their bedroom.

_Empty._

Okay. What the absolute _fuck_?

Heading back to the light of the kitchen, he fished his mobile out from his pocket, double checking just in case he'd missed a text or call from the elusive brunette, but there was nothing. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he reached for the fridge as he scrolled through his contacts, figuring a nice, cold beer would rightly hit the spot whilst he got to the bottom of this.

Screwing the top off of his bottle, he took a long pull of the amber liquid, thumb hovering over the send button for Castiel when a yellow post-it note stuck to the fridge caught his attention. Setting his mobile down in favour of holding his beer, he snatched the note up, jade eyes scanning the neat, curling script that could only be Castiel's handwriting.

'_Dean,_

_If you are reading this, then you are home, and I am not.'_ Dean rolled his eyes. No shit, Cas. _'I am visiting with Samuel and Gabriel – my brother has declared a family emergency_ _(whatever that might mean) and demanded my attendance. I'm sorry I will not be there to welcome you home. There is leftover lasagne in the fridge if you get hungry. I'm not sure what time I will be coming home, so don't concern yourself with waiting up for me. Please call if you require anything._

_Love, Castiel.'_

Dean scowled, scrunching the note up and tossing it in the bin. Well, so much for him getting a slice of action tonight…

Looking down at himself, he shook his head in remorse and, beer in hand, made his way back to the sitting room. Slumping down on the couch, he switched the television on and snatched up the controller for the Playstation, throwing his shirt back on when the chill of the vastly barren apartment nipped at his bare skin.

Waiting for Call of Duty to load, he sighed and took another lonely swig of his drink.

"Son of a bitch…"

* * *

_**Meanwhile, in Jackson, New Jersey…**_

"I'm not sure about this, Gabriel," Castiel sighed for the nth time in so many minutes, fingering the stem of his wineglass with a frown. "This phase of the plan seems unnecessarily cruel…"

Gabriel rolled his eyes, taking a delicate sip of his own wine as he glanced at his mopey brother from across his kitchen table. "You worry too much, little bro. We have Dean exactly where we want him!"

"But he already wants me," Castiel argued, the beginnings of a throbbing headache stirring around his temples. "He has been paying more attention to me, just like I wanted. And he has even cut down on his gaming time."

"Ah, but giving in now would ruin everything," Gabriel insisted. "See, that's the beauty of this phase. Now that Dean is finally taking notice of you again, you have to make him want you so bad he'll never take you for granted ever again. He has to realise that you're not some dog that he can pet and play with whenever it suits _his_ needs." Grinning deviously, he raised his glass to his lips. "You've given him but a small sample of Ambrosia – now make him _beg for it_."

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, to tell his brother that, after this afternoon's steamy phone session, he didn't think he could last much longer – let alone Dean – when his thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of the younger Winchester brother.

"Hey, Gabe? There's a bunch of mail here for you. Most of it looks like junk, but I–" Sam paused mid-sentence when he glanced up to find that they weren't alone. "Oh. Hey, Cas. What brings you by?"

"Well, I was merely–"

"He just stopped by to visit his favouritest big brother!" Gabriel quickly interjected, earning a frown from Castiel and a sceptical eyebrow from his lover.

"Uh-huh," Sam said, clearly unconvinced. Placing the mail down on the counter by the door, he folded his corded arms across his chest and pinned Gabriel with a piercing stare. "Alright. What are you up to this time, Gabe?"

"Me?" Gabriel asked, feigning total innocence that was so over the top it made both Sam and Castiel shake their heads. "Nothing at all, Moose! And, quite frankly, I am deeply hurt that you would just assume something so callous of me…"

"I know you, short-stack," Sam replied, getting his own dig in for the 'moose' comment. "I can practically smell when you're cooking up one of your little schemes. Are you pranking someone?"

Gabriel mulled that over for a second, before shaking his head in the negative. "No."

"Exploiting someone?"

Another shake. "Nope."

"Will anybody get hurt?"

"Does a bad case of blue-balls count?"

Sam suddenly looked worried. "_What_?"

"Never mind," Gabriel dismissed with a wave.

Sam figured it was probably best to forget he ever heard that. "Right… I won't need to be using any of my legal connections by the time this is over, will I?"

Gabriel pretended to think about it, scratching his chin as he hummed. "Hmm. That's a toughie…"

"Gabriel…" Sam warned with a sharp look.

"Oh, keep your panties on, Sammy baby!" Gabriel chuckled, hazel eyes dancing impishly. "Nobody'll be goin' to prison or anything like that."

"Really, Sam," Castiel suddenly spoke up on Gabriel's behalf. "There is nothing sinister going on. I promise you."

Infinitely more reassured with Castiel's word – good, kind, _responsible_ Castiel – Sam gave a curt nod and let his arms drop to his sides. "Okay. Good, I guess." Carding a hand through his shaggy brown hair, he jammed a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just leave you two to… gossip, or whatever. If you need me, I'll be online."

"No!" Gabriel exclaimed, bouncing up from his seat and blocking Sam's exit. "No gaming tonight, Sammich."

"What? Why the hell not?" Sam demanded, his voice dangerously close to a whine. "If Cas is here, then that means Dean's probably online right now…"

Gabriel faltered, struggling to think of an excuse. "I think you've played that game enough this week, don't you? Don't want you to ruin them pretty doe browns of yours, Sammy."

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Gabriel could just see the cogs working behind that monster brain. "Okay, what's going on? Why don't you want me going online?"

Gabriel knew it was only a matter of time before Sam and his giant nerd-brain figured it all out, and so he decided to use the oldest trick in the book to distract the Gigantor's attention elsewhere.

Sidling up to his lanky lover, he began to play with the buttons on his shirt, a saucy little smile quirking his lips. "I get so lonely when you sit up all night playing with your geeky friends," he murmured, pouting cutely up at a scowling Sam. "I'll be finished down here soon enough, so why don't you go and take a nice, hot bath, soothe those aching muscles and get yourself all squeaky clean…" He wound his fingers into Sam's hair, tugging him down a fraction so that he could press a salacious kiss to his jaw. "…so I can come dirty ya up all over again."

Sam looked like he had more to say, but a deep, steamy kiss from his petite lover quickly dissolved the better extent of his vocabulary. Running his large hands down Gabriel's back, he pressed the smaller man in tight against his body, slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and squeezed. Gabriel purred his approval and darted his tongue out to sweep across Sam's lips before pulling away with a naughty little glimmer to his eye.

"Don't be long," Sam growled, nipping at Gabriel's saliva-slick bottom lip before releasing the man completely. Casually straightening out his suit jacket, he turned to give Castiel a warm smile. "It was good to see you, Cas. Catch you later. And you," he gave Gabriel a dark, hooded look, "I'll see you upstairs. _Soon_."

"Bet on it, _Samuel_," Gabriel purred, playfully smacking Sam's ass as he disappeared down the hall. He was perfectly content to watch his lover leave, his eyes avidly following the dip and sway of the man's gorgeous hips as he moved, already fantasising about all of the nasty kinds of things he was going to do to that _damn fine_ _ass_ once he got upstairs…

"Ahem."

Blinking back to reality, Gabriel pivoted round to find Castiel glaring coldly at him from across the room. Giving the younger Novak a helpless shrug, he returned to his seat, taking up his glass and picking up right where they left off.

"Sorry about that, baby bro!" he smirked, making Castiel doubt the sincerity of his apology. "Now, where were we…? Ah, yes; the pièce de résistance!" Scooting his chair in close, he leaned forward, his eyes darting back and forth like he was about to divulge some highly classified information. "Listen close, Castiel – 'cause this is where it gets _really _interesting…"

Castiel sighed internally, mentally preparing himself for a long, tiring night…

* * *

**A/N:** Did I say a two-shot? Because, obviously, I meant a three-shot...

Once again, my mind just took the plot and ran with it. No consulting me or nothing - and so now you all will be waiting just a little bit longer for the final conclusion. Sorry! I honestly have no self-control, it's horrendous.

Well, our minxy little Cassie is proper torturing poor Dean-o now, ey? Bless. Dean really should have paid more attention to his husband's needs... Also, I had no idea just how fun Sabriel is to write. Both men are awesome - Gabriel; the spunky little trickster, with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue, and Sam; gorgeous, Abercrombie model-esque genius with a penchant for knowledge and gloriously big hands. Seriously, that dude is too tall _not_ to be hot. Anyway, I absolutely adore their chemistry together. Both on complete different sides of the coin, but totally meant for each other. So sweet.

So yeah, hope y'all enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. Any thoughts/ideas/suggestions for the next (last) instalment? Something to torture Dean, of course. I myself was thinking of a romantic dinner - Castiel eating fruit in a very erotic manner, casually playing footsie with Dean under the table, dressed to the nines in a sexy suit...

Any thoughts? As always, leave a review or drop me a line. It'd be awesome to hear from ya (:

Peace out,

**FMV**


	3. Anything you can do

**Disclaimer:** Nope! Okay? Just... _no_.

**Warnings:** Heavy slash, foul language, um... exceedingly fluff-laden moments?

**Pairings:** Sabriel, Madam (Michael/Adam), Balcifer.

Do enjoy, darlings!

* * *

**_.:All's Fair in Love and Modern Warfare:._**

_'Anything you can do...'_

_**Jackson,**_

_**New Jersey**_

"Oh, shit… _Gabriel_… That's it, baby; just like that…"

"Mm, yeah… Ya like that, Sammy?"

Sam made a husky sound of approval in the back of his throat, not really possessing enough blood in the right head to answer with anything more substantial. His entire body was wrought with sexual tension; his back straining up off of their plush king mattress, his golden skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, the corded muscles in his arms pulled taut, protruding like steel cables, as they flexed and pulled against the silken ties binding his wrists to the headboard.

Gabriel had promised to 'dirty him up' – and Lord help him, the man _always_ delivered.

The honey haired male in question was currently perched upon Sam's naked lap, writhing and undulating obscenely as he rode his cock reverse cowgirl style – undoubtedly one of Sam's favourite positions. He loved watching Gabriel's muscular back bunching and stretching with every torturous movement. He loved when the shorter male would suddenly rear back, planting his hands upon Sam's washboard abs and forcing his dick into a brand new and stimulating angle. He loved watching his impressive endowment fucking deep into Gabriel's welcoming heat, snug as a velvety glove, with every rise and fall of his hips. He loved the seductive little glances Gabriel would shoot over his shoulder at him, eyes hooded and darkened to liquid amber in arousal, and features blissed out on the end of his dick.

He even loved the ridiculous brown leather Stetson that he _insisted_ on wearing, claiming that any self-respecting cowboy wouldn't be caught dead upon his wild stallion without one.

Really, who was Sam to argue with such logic?

When Gabriel slammed down, twisting his hips _just so_, Sam nearly lost his goddamn mind. Fingers clenching into tight fists, he bucked up against his lover, hazel eyes glued to the magnificent arch of Gabriel's back as he tossed his head back and moaned, taking the full, throbbing length of Sam's cock like a seasoned whore.

"Damn… Wanna touch you so bad, Gabe," Sam growled, teeth bore in carnal lust. "Wanna taste your skin and spread you open; wanna fist your dick and jack you off until you're delirious with pleasure…" Straining against his bonds (thank fuck for silk – handcuffs chafe like a mother after the first ten minutes or so) he drove his hips up in a particularly hard thrust that had Gabriel momentarily fumbling with his rhythm. "Untie me, Gabe. _Now_."

"Nuh-uh," Gabriel shot down almost instantaneously, quickly regaining his broken tempo. "Nngh… You might be the one with– _hah_, with your dick up my ass, but make no mistake, Sammy-boy; _I'm_ the one on top." Gripping Sam's knee with his left hand for leverage, he picked up the pace, bringing his right up to clutch the Stetson in place. "I'm callin' the shots here, babe – and if I say I wanna get off on your monster cock alone, then you'll just have to be a good little pony and go with it." He flashed a writhing Sam an impish smile. "If you're good, maybe master'll give you a sugar lump…"

Sam glared at the shorter male and bucked up, effectively wiping the smug grin from Gabriel's lips. "Fuck that. This stallion just wants to get off; wants to fill you up with his seed until you're fit to fucking _burst_."

"Hot _damn_," Gabriel moaned, both hands now gripping Sam's thighs as his prostate was thoroughly abused by Sam's eager thrusts. "Love it when you curse, Sammy. Sounds so filthy."

Sam's lips pulled up into a wicked smirk as he repositioned himself, shifting further up against the headboard and planting his feet against the mattress, both giving him better leverage to really pound up into Gabriel with the man's every downward lunge. He was tantalisingly close to his peak, and, judging by the pornographic quality sounds spilling uninhibited from Gabriel's slackened jaw, he would wager that the elder man was closer to the edge than even he.

Using Gabriel's lust-addled mind to his advantage, Sam rotated his wrist against the silk tie binding his right hand, the same one he'd been working at for the past fuck knows how long now, grinning when he felt the knot begin to slip loose.

Gabriel was too lost in achieving his own self-satisfaction to notice his lover's crow of triumph until it was too late. He could only gasp in surprise when Sam's arm suddenly curled tight across his chest, those long fingers gripping his chin and tilting his head back for a soul-searing kiss.

Gabriel moaned helplessly into Sam's mouth when a large palm wrapped around his throbbing cock and _squeezed_, pumping furiously in what felt like an attempt to wring his very sanity from his leaking dick.

"Come on, Gabe," Sam murmured darkly into his ear, nosing at the sweaty skin of his throat before laving his tongue out for a taste. Groaning, he nipped at the peachy flesh. "You must be _gagging_ for it by now… Just look at you; writhing on my dick like a pro, like some cock-hungry slut." Biting down hard on Gabriel's shoulder, he gave a brutal buck, frantically chasing his release. "Let it go, babe. Come for daddy…"

Throwing his head back with a strangled cry, Gabriel came quite spectacularly, thick ropes of come painting his stomach and even reaching as far as his chest. Sam growled as the tight channel of Gabriel's hole clamped down around his engorged cock, every flutter and spasm driving him to the brink of madness until he too found euphoria, coming deep inside his panting lover with a muted growl.

Struggling for stolen breath and thoroughly sated, Gabriel collapsed back against Sam's chest. "Mmm. That was definitely some of your finer work, Sammykins."

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that," Sam huffed, wiping at his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. Pressing a loving kiss to the angry red welt he'd left against the shorter male's shoulder, he plucked the cowboy hat from an unresisting Gabriel's head and tossed it across the room. "C'mon, Gabe, shift your lazy ass. My left arm is starting to go numb."

Grumbling, Gabriel did as he was asked, both men sighing as Sam's softening cock slipped free from his fucked out hole. Collapsing unceremoniously down beside his gigantic lover, he propped himself up on an elbow and watched through lidded eyes as Sam freed himself from the remaining tie and rubbed gingerly at his wrist, no doubt trying to get the circulation flowing again.

Rolling over onto his back, he stretched languidly, his limbs heavy with the heavenly satisfaction of a good fuck, before reaching into his bedside drawer and retrieving an apple flavoured lollipop.

Sam frowned from where he sat propped up against the headboard, and Gabriel quirked a boorish brow. "Problem?"

"Do you have to eat that right now?"

"Oh, lighten up, Samsquatch," Gabriel winked, popping the sucker in his mouth. "Everybody has their post-sex vices. Some people like to cuddle, others enjoy a soothing cigarette… Me? I like something to suck on."

Sam shook his head, hazel eyes disapproving. "I'm just saying, it can't be healthy."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, pulling the pop free and waving it lazily around in the air. "Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud. You already forbade me from eating them _during_ sex…"

"Yeah, only because you nearly inhaled one and almost choked to death!"

Gabriel chuckled. "What can I say? I have an oral fixation. It'd be more detrimental to my health _not_ to indulge me." Glancing sidelong at Sam, his lips curved into a lopsided smirk. "God knows what I might put in my mouth if you take away my daily fix…"

Sam's eyes darkened at the saucy implications, unable to stop himself from grinning right back. "I can certainly think of a few things to keep it better occupied."

Gabriel licked languorously at the head of the syrupy green sweet, eyes drooping to half mast. "Oh? Do tell…"

Sam hummed, leaning over the top of his minxy little lover, his mouth brushing in a teasing kiss over those soft, sticky lips. "I'd be happy to tell you all about it, in _excruciating_ detail…" But before Gabriel could deepen the contact, Sam pulled back, a sinful smirk in place as he ignored the smaller male's groan of protest. "But first, I want you to tell me what's going on with Castiel and my brother."

Gabriel blinked, adopting a face of total naivety. "I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about…"

"Uh-huh," Sam snorted, retreating further to lay at Gabriel's side. "So the fact that Cas was here, _without_ Dean, until nearly ten in the evening, and the fact that I was banned from going online, where you know for certain that I'd be speaking with Dean… they have nothing to do with anything? It's all just one big coincidence?"

Gabriel pouted, sucking dejectedly on his treat. "I knew that freakishly large brain of yours would get me into trouble…"

"There's nothing 'freakish' about it – I'm just not a moron," Sam corrected, shaking the bangs from his eyes. "And besides, I like to think that my brain is perfectly proportional to the rest of my body."

Gabriel made a soft sound of agreement, his honey-brown eyes making a generous sweep of the length of Sam's beautifully naked body. "Mmm. _I'll_ say…"

"Oh no you don't," Sam laughed, snapping his fingers in front of Gabriel's face to redirect his focus back up to his eyes. "Story first; shameless ogling later."

"Ulgh. _Fine_," Gabriel acquiesced with a dramatic flourish as he rolled onto his side to better face Sam, his eyes narrowing as he jabbed the sucker at Sam's smug face. "But you'd better make this worth my while…"

Sam's grin turned positively wolfish. "You get yourself comfortable, and I'll go grab the chocolate sauce…"

And that's when Gabriel knew he was royally screwed.

* * *

_**Los Angeles,**_

_**California**_

Michael rustled the pages of his newspaper, his attention divided between the latest inflation rates and watching Adam as he manoeuvred around their modern-style kitchen, the young brunette busying himself with tidying the clutter that had accumulated along the island and various countertops.

It was one of those rare days – so far and few between, what with Michael's absurdly long hours and Adam's demanding residency training – in which both men found themselves with the whole day off. It was already early afternoon, and Michael had yet to shower or even shave – he was still in the grey sweats and blue striped bathrobe he'd thrown on after rolling out of bed two hours previous, for crying out loud!

For having such a fierce and imposing reputation, he sure was a slob when he had nothing better to be doing.

Adam, meanwhile, he had been up from eight o'clock that morning. He'd washed and dressed and fetched them both breakfast from the little café downtown that Michael enjoyed visiting in his free time. He had a certain little spring in his step as he wiped down the marble surfaces where they ate and prepared food, that had Michael envying his youth.

To be fair, thirty-seven wasn't _that_ old – it wasn't even considered to be halfway over the proverbial hill. But when compared to Adam's tender twenty-three years of age, it made Michael feel like he belonged on display in the Smithsonian with all of the other mummified corpses.

He most certainly wasn't the "grave-robbing kiddie-snatcher" Gabriel made him out to be, but there were days he felt disturbingly close to it.

Too irritated to read anything further, Michael folded the newspaper in half and tossed it onto the breakfast bar table in front of him. Lacing his fingers beneath his chin, he lazily tracked his lover's movements as he began unloading the dishwasher, that young, perky bottom captivating his azure blue gaze every single time the lad bent over.

"Do you think we communicate enough?" he found himself asking before he even realised the words were formulating in his head. _Oh well_, he mused internally to himself. _Might as well run with it now_.

Adam paused what he was doing, eyebrows knitting over his pretty emerald eyes as he stared at the older man. "Um… what?"

"I'm talking about us as a couple," Michael elaborated, his gaze unerring in its intensity. "Do you think we communicate enough with one another?"

"Okay, what brought this on all of a sudden?" Adam asked instead, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He was familiar enough with Michael and his inner workings by now to know that the finer aspects of their relationship – their vast age difference, their busy work weeks, and their resulting lack of love life – never really bothered the man, in spite of the initial raking he received. The fact that Michael would bring something like this up, seemingly out of the blue, was enough to make Adam inclined to believe that someone had gone running their mouth off again.

Michael straightened up in his seat; he certainly wasn't exactly expecting an in-depth analysis. "I was merely speculating about the weekend I spent with my brothers, and the topic of conversation we discussed." Folding his arms across his chest, he levelled the brunette with a penetrating stare. "It's not a difficult question, Adam, and I would like to hear your opinion on the matter if you wouldn't mind."

Wiping his hands down on his skinny jeans, Adam leaned back against the countertop. "Alright… I think that, given our circumstances, we talk plenty."

Michael frowned. "'Given our circumstances'? What is that supposed to mean?"

Adam shrugged a shoulder, stuffing his hands into his front pockets. "It doesn't _mean_ anything. Okay, so we probably don't sit down and just shoot the shit as much or as often as other couples do," Michael curled his lip at the crass terminology, to which Adam rolled his eyes, "but we don't always have the luxury of time to share like they do. I'm always swamped with assignments and studying, and you work long hours and crazy overtime… but I get it, and its okay." Smiling tentatively, he averted his gaze down to his scuffed Converse trainers. "I'm used to it."

"Used to it," Michael muttered somewhat bitterly, working a tic in his jaw. He didn't want Adam to merely be _'used'_ to anything – he didn't bust his balls day in and day out to give them a life of comfort and extravagance just for Adam to feel like he was settling. The very notion of it made him _seethe_.

"Hey," Adam soothed, suddenly standing beside the brooding elder male. "I don't know what you and your brothers were talking about, but don't ever feel like you're in some sort of twisted sibling rivalry with them where we're concerned." Laying a hand upon Michael's shoulder, he gave a loving squeeze. "I'm perfectly happy with where I am in my life right now. Sure, I'm exhausted all the time, and maybe we don't spend enough time 'communicating' as we probably should, but none of that matters – not to me, at least." Bending down, he captured Michael's lips in a sweet kiss, humming pleasantly and emerald eyes shining with warmth when he drew back. "I love you, Michael, and I enjoy the life we've built together. Please don't let anyone ever make you think any different."

Adam smiled down upon his dumbstruck lover, pressing one last lingering kiss to his parted lips before walking away, returning to his previously interrupted chore and leaving Michael reeling.

Michael was rendered utterly speechless. How could one so young possess such wisdom? With a few well placed words, his beautiful lover had effectively quelled his every shadowed fear and budding concern, had flipped his sour mood in a complete one-eighty so that now all he could feel was a heady flood of warmth that seemed to originate from his heart and spread like so many parasitic viruses to every cell of his body.

Without another word, Michael rose from his chair and stalked toward where Adam was now diligently loading the dishwasher with their dirtied breakfast plates. Adam was taken completely unawares when large hands suddenly grabbed him from behind and whirled him around, a hot, experienced mouth sealing tight over his own as he was crowded up against the sink behind him.

There was no time for startled questions or stammered exclamations as Michael delved his tongue deep and insistent down Adam's throat, the young brunette not missing a beat as he pulled open the tie to the elder's bathrobe and pushed it from his broad shoulders. Moaning into the kiss, Adam mapped out the naked planes of Michael's chest and abdomen with greedy hands, breath hitching in his throat when Michael growled and cupped his ass, pulling their bodies flush together.

"Michael…" he breathed, gasping when the man grabbed the backs of his thighs and suddenly hoisted him up, his superior bulk and strength making light work of the task.

Michael silenced the youth with another searing kiss, biceps bulging in a sexy flex as he carried the brunette to their large, beautifully crafted oak dining table. With shockingly skilful footwork, he managed to kick an obstructive ornate chair out of the way and deposit Adam at the head of the table.

Their ravenous kiss was momentarily broken when Michael had to pull away in order to tear Adam's grungy Guns N' Roses t-shirt (curse that Dean Winchester and his 'awesome' birthday gifts) off over his head, though they were soon fused back at the mouth again before the thin stretch of material even hit the floor.

Pushing for dominance over the sinfully dirty kiss – not because he thought he had a hope in Hell of wining, but because he knew it opened this whole new primal side of his older lover – Adam carded his fingers through Michael's thick raven locks and hitched his legs up over his muscular hips, desperately kicking off his trainers and then expertly toeing off his socks.

Hey, with a potent surge of post-teen hormones, there was very little Adam couldn't accomplish in the name of sex.

Michael reacted just as predicted, surging forward with a growl, one hand clamping tight about Adam's hip and the other planting square in the centre of his chest, forcing him back against the cold wood of the table. Making short work of the boy's belt, Michael unfastened those criminally tight jeans and started tugging them down Adam's slim legs.

Curling his lip in frustration when he really had to yank them past the younger male's calves, he tossed the infuriating length of denim over his shoulder. "I really hate those pants."

"Liar," Adam grinned, scooting back across the table as Michael prowled after him, crawling like a sensuous predator over the top of his body. "You love the way they hug my every curve and accentuate my… _assets_."

Michael didn't respond, other than to glower down at him, but then Adam wasn't surprised. Michael wasn't big on talking during sex – always grumbling that it was obviously a 'young man's game'. Adam didn't particularly care; Michael's deep, throaty growls and sexy grunts of pleasure were more than enough to make his toes curl.

Thoughts derailing when Michael started pressing wet, open mouthed kisses down the column of his throat and enveloped the entire length of his body with his larger frame, Adam eagerly arched into his every touch, his legs coming up to bracket Michael in against him as moans slipped unbidden from between his kiss-bruised lips. When Michael suddenly licked over his left nipple, teeth teasing the dusky flesh into a hardened nub, Adam keened in pleasure, his hands clutching at Michael's dark hair and his hips rolling up without his consent.

Michael bit back a heady groan at the delicious friction against his heavy arousal, sucking Adam's right nipple into his mouth whilst his hands rubbed down the boy's heaving ribcage, slipping around the back of his waist to his shapely backside. Sliding his hands down the back of Adam's snug boxer briefs, he palmed greedily at the warm flesh of his ass, Adam mewling when the pad of a callused index finger brushed over his most intimate area.

"Michael, w-wait," Adam stuttered out on a shaky breath, his emerald eyes alight with concern. "It's been a while since we last did anything… Please, we need lube…"

"Shhh," Michael soothed, his grin just on the wrong side of wicked as he hooked his fingers into Adam's boxers and shimmied them down the boy's trembling thighs. "No need to worry, kid. There are ways to open you up for me _and_ lubricate you at the same time."

Adam opened his mouth to challenge his theory, but soon found the words caught in his throat when Michael's large hands manhandled him onto his stomach and then proceeded to raise his hips up off the table. Adam was bright enough to figure out the answer to his unasked question when Michael laved a wet, burning trail from his oversensitive perineum, up over his fluttering hole, and all the way to the base of his spine.

"Oh, _fuck_," Adam cursed, forehead resting against his folded forearms and body shuddering from head to toe.

"Language," Michael admonished with a harsh nip to his right buttocks, before spreading the boy's cheeks and licking over that delicate rosebud of puckered flesh in long, sensual stripes.

Adam wanted to scream that he had absolutely no filter over what kind of language he used when Michael was _eating him out_ like that, but every single swipe of that talented tongue blotted out yet another word in his vocabulary, until he was reduced to little more than a writhing mess of limbs on their dining room table, his blissful ramblings unintelligible at best.

By the time Michael had worked in three spit-slick fingers alongside his tongue, Adam had moaned out a litany of curses debauched enough to make even a sailor blush – and Michael was way past the point of caring to chastise him for it.

"M-Michael," Adam panted, cheeks flushed and thighs quivering as Michael's strong fingers rubbed ruthlessly against his prostate. "_Please_… I'm ready…"

Michael took mercy on the boy, giving his suitably stretched hole one last parting swipe with his tongue before kissing up the length of his spine and gently guiding him to lie upon his back. Adam pulled him down into a filthy hot kiss, moaning at the lingering taste of himself which he avidly sucked from Michael's tongue as his hands scrabbled to push the man's loose sweats from his hips, moaning further at the discovery that his older lover was going commando.

Michael assisted Adam in riding himself of his pants, leaving the young lad dazed and begging for more when he reared back to sit on his knees. Spitting into his palm as a crude substitute for proper lubrication, he stroked his hand over the length of his turgid cock, hissing through clenched teeth as he pumped himself to full hardness.

Adequately satisfied, he hitched Adam's right leg up over his shoulder, guiding his cock to the boy's prepared entrance and gently rocking his hips forward. Adam's eyes fluttered closed, back lifting in a delicate curve as the head of Michael's powerful arousal nudged persistently against his hole, a desperate cry bubbling up in his throat when it popped through the initial resistance and slowly began to slide home.

Michael gave a grunt of approval when Adam's silky insides enclosed around him, gripping him tight and sucking him in deep, almost as if in welcome. Both men gave their own sound of bliss when their hips finally pressed flush against one another, Michael's heavy sac slapping against Adam's buttocks and Adam's leaking sex pulsing with need as it was sandwiched between their stomachs.

Michael rocked his hips in short, shallow thrusts to begin with, adoring the soft, breathless whimpers his young lover emitted with every exhale. Adam was lost in the sweet vindication of relearning every line and contour of Michael's sinfully sculpted body with his fingertips; the strong curve of his shoulders, the sharp dip in the small of his back, the powerful cut of his hipbones… He was positively drunk on the man; on the musky smell of his skin, the sound of his mounting passion growled out on every breath by his ear, on each velvety drag of his gorgeous cock against his insides…

Michael was in no better shape, to be honest. He couldn't help but gaze down upon the boy as they made love right there on their hardwood table, his heart constricting on every other beat as a bright and all-consuming kind of love penetrated deep down into the depths of his very soul.

In Michael's humble opinion, Adam was nothing short of beauty personified as he undulated and cried out beneath him. His dark lashes – so much longer than any other man he'd ever met – fanned out across his rosy cheeks like the delicate wings of a butterfly, a plump bottom lip pulled between straight, white teeth and worried upon until Michael was sure it would bleed, and those beautiful emerald green eyes, radiating such warmth and affection, gazing unflinchingly right back up at him. Everything about the boy was precious, _invaluable_, and there wasn't a single day that passed by in which Michael didn't thank the Almighty above that Adam had chosen him.

"Don't think so hard," Adam grinned with a breathy chuckle, lips moist and eyes bright. "You're making love to me, Michael; not solving a freaking Rubik's cube…"

Michael had to give a snort of laughter at that, smiling wide as he dipped down to kiss the sass right out of Adam's mouth. "Well, obviously I'm not doing a good enough job if you're still able to formulate perfectly lucid sentences." Pitching Adam's other leg up over his shoulder, Michael surged forward, bottoming out and striking Adam's sweet spot dead on. Adam keened, his fingernails biting into Michael's shoulder blades as he was practically folded in half. "Let's change that, shall we?"

Adam could only hold on for grim life as Michael, quite literally, rocked his world.

* * *

_**Bandera,**_

_**Texas**_

It was raining heavily in Texas, the clouds dark and ashen as they thundered overhead, the skies intermittently lit up with flashes of crackling lightening. It was late afternoon in mid-June, the beginning of storm season, and Mother Nature had decided to see the inauguration in with a bang.

Lucifer cursed his misfortune, having put his small herd of eight cattle out to pasture only two days previous. And so, with the help of Balthazar and two employed stable hands, they rode out into the storm to round up the stranded cows.

It had been a difficult task, the bovine beasts spooking at every booming clap of thunder and prone to stampeding with every whipcrack of forked lightening. It had taken the four men the better part of an hour to drive the cattle back to the safety of Hell's Gate, Lucifer's ranch, and by that time they were soaked to the bone and fighting off a monstrous chill from the gale force winds.

Directing his hands to tend to the nervous herd now bunkered down in the large barn to the west of the property, worried that some may have gotten hurt in all the panic, Lucifer delegated himself and Balthazar the duty of stabling their mounts.

After ensuring that all of the horses were towelled down and dried off, with access to plenty of water and feed, Lucifer had suggested waiting out the worst of the tropical storm in the relative shelter of the stables…

…how they went from riding out the storm to riding, well, _each other_, was anybody's guess. All Lucifer knew was that one minute he was rubbing his black coated American quarter horse, Lilith, behind the ears, the mare nickering softly at the loving attention, and the next he was being dragged into an empty stall by a suddenly quite frisky blonde.

Lucifer had his suspicions that sex in the stables was yet another kink his foxy little lover was just dying to cross off of his metaphorical list. And really, who was he to deny such a thing?

And so, here they were; Lucifer with his sodden red-plaid shirt ripped open and his dusty denim pants shoved hastily around his ankles, fucking savagely into a mewling Balthazar, the blonde pinned against the roughcast wall at the back of the stall, completely naked save for the snakeskin cowboy boots locked about Lucifer's waist.

What? Lucifer had quirks of his own, too, y'know…

"Oh, good lord… yes, _yes_! That's the spot, right there… Oh, fuck – _Luce_!"

Head snapping back and toes curling in bliss, Balthazar lost himself to sweet rapture, coming in thick, hot ropes and coating their stomachs with the pearlescent fluid. Lucifer groaned into the sweat-slick skin of Balthazar's throat, the blonde's tight heat clamping down on his rigid cock and rocketing his pleasure to dizzying new heights. He barely managed a scant few thrusts more, his rhythm broken and stunted, before he too careened over the edge and into euphoria, bathing Balthazar's insides in torrents of white.

"God _damn_," Lucifer choked out on a gasping breath, gingerly retreating from Balthazar's fucked out hole before gently guiding the both of them to the soft bed of (thankfully _clean_) hay beneath their feet. Hiking up his boxer briefs for some modicum of decency, he sluggishly kicked off his muddy boots and wriggled out of his still damp jeans before wrapping an arm around Balthazar's shoulders and pulling him close into his side. Pressing a doting kiss to the blonde's temple, he grinned. "So… the stables, huh?"

Without an ounce of shame for his state of undress (exhibitionism being yet another favoured kink), Balthazar gave a breathless chuckle. "Mm. Been fantasising about it for weeks now." Rolling over, he draped himself over Lucifer's chest and gave the exhausted man a cheeky smirk. "Oh, come on, darling – we just had a _literal_ roll in the hay. You've got to love just how cheesy and clichéd that is."

Lucifer had to laugh, the spritely mischief glinting in the blonde's steely grey eyes nothing short of infectious. Cupping Balthazar's cheek, he guided him down for a soft and tender kiss, Balthazar humming pleasantly against Lucifer's mouth as he carded his fingers through the man's damp strawberry-blonde locks.

Lucifer was reluctant to break the contact, content as he was with Balthazar's familiar weight and comforting warmth; but there was a whole different kind of burden weighing heavily on his chest, one that had been bearing down on him for he can't even remember how long now, and he feared if he didn't share the load soon it would crush him to metaphoric dust.

Grudgingly drawing away from the addictive taste of the blonde's lips, Lucifer gazed up into the stormy fathoms of Balthazar's gaze and offered him a tentative smile. He'd never done anything quite like this before, and the fear of possible rejection was admittedly rather intimidating.

Thumbs stroking the soft, tanned swell of Balthazar's high cheekbones, he swallowed down his mounting apprehension and decided to just bite the bullet. "To be perfectly honest, I can think of something I love a lot more than hackneyed tumbles in a glorified shed." He felt Balthazar notably tense up within his arms, but pushed himself on regardless. If he stopped now, he might not ever finish. "Or rather, more specifically, I should say some_one_ I love more…"

Balthazar could swear that his heart had leapt up into his throat at the roundabout declaration, his eyes wide as he stared down at the elder man. This was brand new territory for him, for the both of them he was quite sure – he had no idea what to say to something like that. When they had gotten together in the beginning, the rules had been laid down and the guidelines crystal in their clarity; a no strings attached torrid fling. That was what had been agreed upon, what they had both decided was for the best when considering their abominable track record with dating and commitment and feelings in general.

But somewhere along the way those clearly defined lines had become blurred, the boundaries corrupted with emotions much deeper than what was noticeable on the surface. Balthazar couldn't be sure who exactly crossed that definitive border first, who it was that said "bollocks to the rules!" and dragged the other down into the Pit right along with them – though, he realised with a start, his heart swelling with warmth, he found the more he thought about, the less he actually cared who fell first.

All that mattered was that he wasn't quite as alone as he was led to believe.

"Say that again," he breathed, his eyes scouring Lucifer's face for any discernable tells that the man had any lingering doubts about his claim.

Lucifer furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, trying to recall what he had said last. "Uh… more specifically–"

"The abridged version, if you please," Balthazar interrupted with a tight, indulgent smile.

Lucifer's lips quirked up into fond grin. If he had been nursing any concerns or unease before, they were suddenly swept clean away with the look of absolute affection and sheer hopefulness radiating from Balthazar's eyes. Lopsided grin simmering down into a small smile so chockfull of genuine fondness it burned all the way down into the depths of his core, Lucifer pulled a happily compliant Balthazar down for a steamy kiss.

"I love you," he murmured softly, the words spoken against the blonde's lips and seemingly resonating through the shared air between them.

Balthazar closed his eyes and hummed, his entire being flooding with a searing kind of warmth that was as frightening as it was wholly intoxicating. Unable to appropriately contain such a magnitude of elation – he was only human, after all – he chuckled merrily, resting his forehead against the deep rooted grooves wrinkling Lucifer's frowning brow.

"What's this?" Lucifer demanded, eyes pinched in cynicism as the blonde's laughter reverberated against his chest. "I confess my innermost feelings to you, words never before spoken to any who doesn't share my blood… and you _laugh_?"

Balthazar knew that Lucifer wasn't _really_ upset, but there was a definite hesitant edge clipping his words that made him feel undeniably guilty for his unfortunate reaction.

Bestowing a salacious kiss to the corner of his chagrined lover's mouth, Balthazar positively beamed down upon him. "I'm sorry, love – I couldn't help myself. I'm exceedingly happy right now and honestly don't know how best to contain it."

Huffing, Lucifer rolled his eyes. "You might find a better outlet for your emotions, then. Christ, for a second there I thought I was being shunned…"

"Heavens, no! You honestly think me so cruel?"

Easy grin in place, Lucifer stroked his fingers up and down the blonde's spine, his gaze hooded though no less probing for the fact. "Well, I've said my piece… What of yours?"

An impish little smirk curled the corner of Balthazar's lips as he manoeuvred himself between Lucifer's denim clad thighs, purring low in his chest as he stretched, moulding the length of his body to fit Lucifer's every hardened dip and curve. Lucifer groaned in approval, his large hands caressing down Balthazar's flanks before coming to rest on the taut, fleshy globes of his bottom, his palms covering the glorious swell of both cheeks.

With an adoring gaze and a dazzling smile, Balthazar kissed his lover soundly. "Oh, Luci – you needn't ever have worried." Taking Lucifer's hand, he pressed it over the strong, steady beat of his heart. "You had me at _hello_."

They met as one then, both men struggling to remember a time in their lives that they had ever been happier…

…and both drawing a decisive blank.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, hey there, y'all! Sorry about the lengthy absence - Christmas is just around the corner, as I'm sure you're all very much aware, and work is taking up a shocking amount of my personal time. It sucks balls; but pay-day is pretty damn awesome!

Okay, so this chapter is pure filler - obviously. The idea for this little 'sneak-peek' into the other couples' lives spawned from **LeeMarieJack**'s suggestion in a previous review. It's not as detailed as she (he?) was expecting, but seein' how I still hadn't figured out how to wrap things up with Dean and Castiel, I figured it would provide ample entertainment until I sort my ideas out for the finale. Oh, and I also meant to mention in my _Author's Note_ last instalment that the phone!sex scene between Dean and Cassie was totally inspired by **DEUTALiA**'s request for dirty talk. So, yeah - thanks guys! You really get the creative juices flowin', y'know?

Huh, that sounded vaguely dirty... Still, goes to show that all of your ideas/thoughts/suggestions go a long way when I'm struggling to mosey onwards.

Sorry there's no full-on sex scene, as it were - three smut-packed rendezvous' was tiring enough as it was! Still, y'all got a beginning (Madam), a middle (Sabriel), and an ending (Balcifer). Just mesh 'em all together and viola! Sexy times (:

Thanks for taking the time to read; I hope y'all enjoy!

Have an awesome day, guys - catch ya's on the flip-side,

**FMV**


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